Horrendously Beautiful
by Middle Finger Solute
Summary: RedGothxStan After finally breaking off from his group, Stan falls in with the Goths, filling the gap he once left.  Will he discover a part of himself that was never supposed to be revealed? In one night a lot can happen…and a lot can fall apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Horrendously Beautiful**

**AN: Hello there! This is my second fic, so I would **_**love **_**plenty of reviews up in here. Or alerts or favorite me… Anyway, I got this idea because I want to see this paring expand to more than just one miniscule page whenever I look it up. And I'm sick and tired of Style. It's almost as annoying as NaruSasu. No offense. Fingers crossed hope I just didn't lose any potential readings there *-*…**

**Warnings: No shit. Yaoi, proceeds with the know the deal. **

Chapter One: Different Conditions

"God damn it. Damn it all!" I screamed. Things seized to make any sense. I thought that finally she would commit to a stable relationship but clearly she just doesn't know how to keep her legs closed.

This is the third damn time.

"Three times in a row! Wow. I'm such a fucking idiot," I was practically running through the vacant parking lot and lighting my seventh cigarette that day. I was supposed to quit but when I took it all in I thought I should use some sort of method to relax me or else I would _definitely_ punch that fucking racist piece of shit…again. Which, considering the circumstances, really wasn't worth it.

I mean, I knew she was a hoe. Straight up hoe. Whore. But, I just couldn't. I thought I loved her but now that I think about Wendy Testaburger… I just get so pissed. And when she's hanging off _his _arm like she used to do with _mine._ It's not right man, uh his bigot ass, _Eric Cartman. _Call me bitter, jealous, I'm not, I'm just so…surprised. So surprised that he would betray me like that and most of all disappointed in them.

Kenny McCormick. He didn't care at all. I had known that. He just looks at me and nods now, acknowledging my presence. I'm okay with that. He still wears that tattered hoodie with that obnoxious orange color that's now stained with so much use and age. He is still going around three times more than Wendy. His brown hair is just as greasy and his eyes are still as beady as they used to be. I doubt he'll change any time soon.

Cartman hurt a hell of a lot more. So much more, god it's still horrible. Every single time he meets my eyes he just has to smack Wendy's ass or show her off like she's some sort of meat. For some reason, these people still wear their child hood jackets in the ever freezing bitter cold of South Park. He's not as big of a lug as he used to be back in the good old days, he's very chubby now, more or less.

But, what Kyle did was just…wrong. So wrong; he laughed at my face, made out with Bebe, and followed Cartman and Wendy with Bebe hanging off him like they were connected by limbs. It was repulsive. What a fucking friend. People go so low. And yes he still wears that abhorrent lime green hat with the annoying orange jacket that makes him look like a jack-o'-lantern. Not matching.

Is it my problem? Nope. He missed out. Even if it was a three months ago, I still can't let it go. Not to mention about the other two times she did this to me, with him, _Cartman. _Cheated on _me _with _Cartman _and she did it _three times_. I'm either more stupid then I originally thought or I'm too ignorant. A little of both I guess.

_**BEEP. BEEP.**_

The sudden car's horn made me jump as said car came at me and hauled to a stop…crap-on-wheels. His 1969 Pontiac Firebird with the traditional logo all scratched up and every surface on the black and red classic seemed to have some sort of bump or scratch. The only thing that looked untouched was its steel rims. I had to appreciate and detest the car every time I saw it.

I looked at my watch and surroundings. Almost twenty-five minutes late to pick me up and it's so fucking cold that the small amount of cars surrounding me were covered in slick ice. Almost skidding on a piece of ice, I walked over to my ride and slammed the rustic door closed. "Wow, aren't you early," I snarled angrily because of the obvious cold that seeped into my bones thoroughly and because of his obnoxious habit of being late at the worst times. Receiving a smirk, Dylan ignored me and popped in a CD. Waiting for it too load, I noticed his finger nail polish was no longer heavily chipped but just recently coated. And that it contrasted with his skin tone very well. He skipped to the second track. What the hell?

He was playing "The Used"…when did that start happening? He always whined to me about how the conformist music has begun seeping into popular alt bands and influencing their lyrics to reach out to everyone instead of just nonconformists. This included The Used, Paramore, and All Time Low. To me good music is good music so it doesn't really matter.

Before I had time to come up with a witty comment he began to sing the song. "You went pretty low, very handsome awkward!" He chanted along with song, he also through his fist in the air with a little too much enthusiasm. Downright hilarious…as the song was finishing we were both head banging and just laughing at each other. He popped the CD out and just put it on the alt station for the rest of the time we were speeding toward the cemetery to meet up with everyone so we could just chill by the graves, talk, or just read poems to each other.

South Park high was just about the same thing as elementary school. Just a bunch a snot nosed kids that thought they knew what life was all about. Annoying, rude, and selfish teenagers with too many mood swings a day caused me to hang with "The Goths". Which is just a stereotype, everyone wears back but we just tend to wear it more so than you do. Deal with it. Now, that's one of the reasons but the main one is that about three months ago I caught Cartman sticking is grotesque tongue down my _ex girlfriend's _throat and her enjoying it. The sad part is I had seen it happening twice before that but like I said I was just being ignorant. That third time just made me break and wither. Cracked open like I nut, I threw myself at him and punched him too many times to even try to remember. I was just so furious and I let it all out on him. This caused my favorite reaction which was the broken nose, torn lip, both eyes swollen shut, and his cheeks were a deep purple because they were so bruised.

That was just awesome.

But, when I broke off from "The Goths" I never really cut off all my contact with them. I would either be with Dylan or Henrietta when I wasn't around Cartman and Co. We would meet up at the cemetery and just chill or they would just always ask me to come back and quit pretending to be a "Fucking-Poser-Jock-With-Awesome-Hair". Henrietta made that "phrase" up. The final result was that Wendy stuck with Cartman, Kyle stuck with being a smart-ass douche while having an obsessive Bebe Stevens on him at all times, and Kenny stuck to hooking up with anything that has boobs. And I became Goth again.

Weird huh, I guess so but at the same time not really. I never loved sports. I never truly fell in love with Wendy. I never truly like any of my friends. I never did anything I didn't exactly want to do. I was okay with it but after fifth-teen years, I got fed up. Hockey quickly became boring when I spent more time with the Goths after I broke up with Wendy and my friends left me. More time listening to their horrendously beautiful poetry. More time in their essence, their being. What they stood by, their meaning. I loved it. _Oh so truly loved it._

That was a first and I wanted to be one of them, asked if I could come back too. And now I wouldn't leave for the world because here I have a sense of belonging, I felt as if that was completely gone from my grasp when I was with my old "friends". Everything felt so fake and repetitive, not real and genuine like it felt now. Feeling safe in my own proper skin is something I looked forward to for such a long time but I have it now so I'm not going to let it out of my grasp ever.

Dylan bumped me on the shoulder and alerted me that we were almost there. I look out the window shield and saw the entrance way to our hang out spot. South Park Cemetery, the letters were faded and a cold gray that matched perfectly with the weather that day. The trees were leafless and dried out. Everything looked like or resembled death. Lifelessness was a better perception of the empty graveyard filled with countless tombs. That was the reason we came here; to be left alone. It was utterly serene today… just how we like it.

Dylan parked the car by the entrance haphazardly and there, beyond the entry way, were the rest; Evan was just a pale as any other day along with Henrietta and George. It was way too cold to be outside now considering how they were huddled up together and that snow was starting to fall down. Their black-clad bodies moved toward the Firebird and hopped in the back with the no permission what-so-ever.

"I'm fucking freezing my ass off! Damn. You know what to do Dylan," said Henrietta before she slammed the door. Henrietta had lost a lot of weight, due to it being mostly baby fat and now was looking freezing cold in her showy lace corset with too-tight leather pants that showed off her curves deliberately. "No wonder you're cold. You aren't wearing anything," I retorted. Dylan nodded again with that smirk. That smirk…Jesus. "Raven, pop this in for me please," said George handing me his favorite CD. Attack Attack again? Whatever, I like them. I smiled at him already knowing which song to put on. Shut Your Mouth.

He gleamed back at me, still looking like a sixth grader even though he was in eighth grade now. His hair was died a jet black with dark azure streaks, long black cargo pants with too many buckles and pockets and a sleeveless black loose tank top. His fingerless gloves also had buckles and they shook as he fist pumped and sang along to the song completely. The rest of us except Evan nodded our heads along to the beat, annoying Evan endlessly since he hated techno.

We played the song twice before we arrived at Henrietta's house. The house was two floors and a basement. Front door was red and the house was white, which was the traditional "South Park style". Her parents were always extremely religious. That _did not_ rub off her. Her parents tried to get her into too many things she didn't like and then she found the Darkness or belonging. She rebelled against her parents in every way possible; she got a tattoo, piercings, and even went as far to go sky diving and they finally stopped trying to deal with all her nonconformist ways. She rarely talks to her parents and it's kind of sad but she could care less about them because they were the ones that ignored her. Not the other way around. They thought it was too much of a hassle to deal with someone who is untamable.

When she told me all of this, it was an obvious form of showing me that she trusted me enough to tell me about her problems. I liked that.

All of us got out of the Firebird and entered the common house hold. She moved her room to the basement last year because she just has a lot of room down there and it's farther away form he parents. Plus, it's so easy to sneak out by using one of the windows.

We walked down the hall of the common house. Crème colored walls pictures of the family. Well, of her parents and her brother. She was a "disgrace" so apparently she doesn't disserve it. Cool huh? To the left were the kitchen and its grey marble counters, to the right were the living room and its hardwood maple floors, and in-between was a white door that led down to the basement. She turned the golden knob and we all headed down the stairs and saw the familiar blood red walls on all our sides. There were candles of all colors everywhere around the room. The black carpet was filled with papers ripped out form poetry books and multiple failed drawings. The red bean bags lay on opposite sides of the solid black marble coffee-table with more candles, drawings, poetry, and empty coffee cups form the diner that was down the street. At the end of the room were two bloody red doors with black graphics all over them and inside were countless corsets, slacks, jeans, and black clothing and makeup. The bathroom was right next to that and against the wall was the queen sized bed was that she was already lying on with the same design on her crimson covers as her closet door.

Evan pulled out a smoke and just lay on the floor, twirling his curly black hair and reading my poetry book with amusement. George was also on the floor and listening to some sort of metal music as he was drinking coffee out of the thermos he seemed to bring everywhere. Dylan was also on the bed with Henrietta and drawing something as Henrietta was smoking and staring out into space. This made me realize I was looking at everyone like I was some kind of dumbass.

"What do you guys want to do today?" I asked. I was so bored so I thought I should ask for their input on where to go today. "Let's go to a show. I heard that some local bands are meeting up at Martin's Pub. We should go. Let me check the line up and then we can see if their good enough," provide George. Everyone agreed as he looked for the line-up. I decided I would take just a little nap…

XxOoXx

Someone was poking my face. As I opened my eyes, I saw hazel eyes outlined in black, pale skin, pink lips, and crazy teased black hair that was red at the roots. "What Dylan?" I was still groggy so I wasn't really in the mood to talk. "We found the line up," he said with a smirk. "Good to know. Who's coming?" I asked. "Enter Shikari, Shut Up and Deal, and Middle Class Rut," I gaped. What, those bands kicked ass, who knew they would actually come to South Park. "Seriously, why are they coming here? Oh my god. When is this?" I was overly excited but he laughed and continued. "It starts tonight at nine. This is so cool. Hey Stan, you want to sleep over because it's going to end kind of late," I couldn't stop the smile that formed on my face. "Course I do."

XxOoXx

The night was filled with black-clad teens, head-banging, and crowd-surfing. Plenty of pictures were taken, many laughs were spilled and beers chugged. Smokes, no doubt, were on everyone's mouth all night long. Henrietta drank too much, George smoked too much, and Evan helped them get to the basement and said we could take off. "Don't worry, I'll take care of the degenerates," he said vehemently, briskly opening a window that lead toward the basement and helped Henrietta stumble in and a coughing George waved us a good bye.

We drove over to Dylan's house. I went to his house almost every single day. He was my best friends really. We did almost everything together and even when we weren't with each other we still kept in contact. So you could say I was familiar with the crème colored house on the outside and the white walls with no photos or decorations on the inside. The maple wood floors shined with a gleam that resembled something brand new, the utter emptiness of the house and its lack of color or design gave off an unsettling feeling. At first it creped me out but I got used to it.

The whole house looked just as bland except for Dylan's room. The lack of coloring was because of his mother. She had a job that didn't allow her to be home. I had only seen her once before and it's a pretty vague memory. Dylan never really talked about anyone in his family and I was okay with that. He would tell me when the time came.

Once I entered his room, I felt that same homey feeling I got whenever I was around the Goths; black walls with gray designs of vines and thorns going across the whole room, enveloping it. His room was small but comfortable and had a modest stereo for his I-pod; his bed was on the far side to the left against the wall with gray and black silk sheets. The lamp and night table were black and white with spiders engraved on them or sown into them. The floor was a light grey carpet and the one window in the room happened to be open, giving us both quite a view of the full moon rising amongst the clouds and slight breeze chilling and warning us that more snow was on its way.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room was too tense, too still. It didn't feel too homey anymore. It felt too perfect actually. Him in is dark clothes, slightly being illuminated by the small amount of light coming out from the window, showing his hair crazy acid punk and Goth styling. The way the light showed his deep, hazel eyes staring back at me in a way that was different from curious as I first thought…it was downright ravenous. He licked his lips and suddenly started approaching me oh _so very_ slowly.

And then he rammed me against the wall. He grabbed my head so fiercely that I had to close my eyes on the impact. But something made me open them wide I again.

He was kissing me.

**AN: o_o GASP! Kissing in the first chapter? My god, have I gone mad? Nope, I'm just waiting for them reviews. What was your reaction? **_**Tell me! You know what to do… so just review…**_


	2. Chapter 2 Time

Chapter Two: Time

It was eager. Forcing. And it kind of hurt.

And then I fell. I fell into that mystical shock that, at the moment, felt like a passing current of energy coming from his body to mine. It was strengthening while I was weakening, breaking under the unprecedented amount of pleasure, it was bringing me to my knees. I had to close my eyes. I felt myself give in and it felt _so _fucking good.

I wrapped my arms around his strong neck, my full weight now leaning on the wall behind me. Nothing mattered. Everything lacked gravity. I was floating in mid air and I loved the feeling of it. The static friction of his tongue rubbing on mine and I thoroughly complied, the cold breeze becoming nonexistent to our melting bodies. Everything lacked importance except this sole moment.

That was until my lungs started collapsing.

I banged my head on the cursed wall behind me, breaking the kiss to get some air and that hurt like _fuck. _I was out of breath. It felt like someone had choked me and I was on the brink of death…and it also felt like I had just finally filled that whole that Wendy oh so conveniently placed in the middle of my chest. The ache had vanished along with my breath so it was a price that was truly worth its fee.

While I was hissing in pain I heard muffled laughter too close to my ear before a hand suddenly came to the back of my head in a comforting manner that I really enjoyed. Until a god forsaken tongue crept onto the shell of my ear and teeth started chewing upon the flesh, which sounds disgusting but in real life it feels so _damn _good.

I recommend this to anyone who wants to get it on. Seriously.

I couldn't hold back the little gasp that escaped from my mouth as Dylan surprisingly bit down harshly on my cartilage. I felt the growing smirk and blushed as he pulled away. Those eyes were too descriptive of what was happening. So lustful. And I swear I saw fulfillment somewhere in those hazel orbs as they stared into me. Into every little crevice I had hidden from plain sight. To the naked eye. To everyone.

Except Dylan.

The full moon was still illuminating it's endless amount of reflected light from the sun onto him as he turned away from me and went to the source of said light. When he was at the window, he looked at me before he closed it and I saw something beautiful but it also sickened me with worry.

Dylan was crying.

Even though his eyes were leaking tears, the droplets seemed to shine like diamonds in the glow that was enveloping him. He was smiling though. He seemed rejoiceful, grateful even. Like a miracle just accrued.

I rushed over there, curiosity overcoming me. He looked at me and swept my bangs over my eyes, then continued to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. It felt like static was on his finger tips, sending a temporary shockwave onto my skin. It was tingly.

"Are you okay? Why are you crying," I said in a worried tone while reaching upward to cup his face in my hands and wipe the continuously leaking tears. His makeup was now smeared but it matched well with his skin. The flowing tears were steadily decreasing.

He looked deep into my eyes, so deep into them that I lost myself. What did he find so special about my normal blue eyes. All white people had them. What was all the jazz about me? Is he…playing me?

I guess the disappointment and disgust started showing onto my face and he actually laughed. What an ass!

"Why are you laughing?" I said in a cold, stern tone that implied to the mockery he had set up for me. This was some sick joke.

He slowly stopped the giggles. "Because you actually thought that I would just use you like that. Oh Stan, you have much to learn about me. And one of them is," he said pausing before giving me a gentle peck on the lips. "is that I have been dreaming about this for a very, _very _long time."

Oh.

Don't I feel like a jackass?

From anger, to understanding, and a little bit of embarrassment, I finally put it all together. Dylan had always treated me differently from everyone else. Gave me car rides, talked to me at school when I wasn't Goth, he would even lend me his CDs when all the other Goths told me to never ask him because he would slap you across the face.

I never asked him for CDs. He always gave them to me, somehow knowing already what artists I liked.

What's kind of funny is that I remember we made up this game where we had to smack an ass or asses a certain amount of times and he would only smack mine. Throughout the whole damn day too. Now that I think about it, it wasn't a smack, more of a harsh grip…

Oh god. I'm an_ idiot._

I looked down, ashamed that I wasn't bright enough to fit the pieces of the puzzle he placed in my convenient reach. That must've hurt him a lot.

He tipped my chin up so he could meet my eyes, he looked concerned and a little more than scared. "Are you regretting this?" he said uncomfortably. Doubting myself heavily, I answered. "No. I just- I mean it kind of happened really fast, you know. I wasn't really expecting and it was a bit scary at first because I thought it was some sick joke you played and I thought-"my rambling was cut off with a finger to my mouth and a shush coming from Dylan's lips before reconnecting them with mine.

How I wasn't against this, I don't know. I got even more confused by my proper actions as I leaned toward him and wrapped my warms around his neck again, his warm tongue finally entering my mouth. His hands tugged my hair and slowly went down my back, leaving trails of static pleasure in their path. I wasn't completely sure if I had goose bumps, even though his tongue was plunging its self down my throat. That was until his hands finally reach their destination, gripping fiercely on my backside.

I now realized that using your nose as an oxygen provider was probably a good idea. I felt myself back into something hard, is that a wall? Oh. My. God. _He's sucking my tongue. _Holy fuck it felt so damn _good._

I felt weightless as he started entwining our tongues in a continuous circular rhythm, while grasping my ass like his life depended on it, and his knee, somewhere along the way, winded up between my legs, kneading something I would rather not name.

My knees were giving out, I kept forgetting to breathe through my nose, and I was trying so hard not to pull Dylan's hair off. I was tugging it pretty harshly.

I knew I was making _a lot_ of noise but I _didn't_ care because it felt good. And I shouldn't be ashamed of that. Besides, they obviously turned Dylan on so why stop making them? It's a win-win situation.

I honestly wanted to know why he was paying so much attention to my ass. Seriously, he was now separating the cheeks and squishing them real hard. It hurt, but whatever. I could deal.

He was sucking my tongue again and I was pretty sure his goal was to finger me with pants on. Man he had some weird kinks, but God that _tongue._

I practically shot off the wall when his fingers dug into my pants and then through the comically thin layer of underwear and reach my back side.

He circled them around and around…

Circling around and around, for a very long time.

I knew I was begging him to put them in me but I couldn't remember what I said I couldn't remember anything. The only thing that did exist was him and I. Nothing else was of importance.

And then the fucking phone rang…

I heard him curse and he said some bull shit apology or something. I couldn't understand him. He was about to pull his fingers away. No. He's not getting out that easy. I plunged them into me as I slid down the wall quickly.

Not my best idea because it hurt so fucking bad. I knew I was hissing in pain and I said something about not wanting him to leave. Why is it so hard to remember?

All I could feel was pain and the awkwardness of suddenly shoving two fingers up your own asshole.

He began to thrust them into me slowly, getting me used to them, preparing me for what was to come. He slid them just a bit deeper and my eyes were rolling into their sockets. He slid them in the same direction but cautiously slipped them even deeper than before. Oh God. I was pretty sure I convulsed and pressed myself so fucking hard on the damn digits.

I heard him whisper so many things in my ears that if registered them all I would be completely red from head to toe; the human tomato Stan Marsh. From things to "_You like that don't you" _to shit like_ "Do you want more"_. But this was different. It made me freeze because I had no I idea what to do.

"Touch me. Please," his voice was so desperate. I hadn't laid a finger on him all night. Jesus, he must be dying.

I reluctantly began to unbutton his pants and I began tease him through his garment. He growled. That was unexpected.

It was kind of hard to meet Dylan in the eyes while he was fingering me and while he was also thrusting into my hand that was now wrapped around his dick.

But I did. He was in complete bliss. And I knew I was about to explode with him finally joining my moans.

I felt something inside me break and then regenerate into something else completely. I knew I was practically screaming but I couldn't care. Not with this feeling of ecstasy coursing through my veins and suddenly overtaking me.

The look in his eyes before they rolled back into their respective sockets was intoxicating me into the same trance.

_The phone can suck my dick._

XxOoXx

I totally didn't expect to see the sunrise and Dylan's naked body.

I'm honestly so fucking confused with me. I mean, yeah I did the occasional look over for a guy. I've considered the male physique once or twice.

But this, waking up with Dylan's rather loud breathing in my ear without clothes on and his arm around my waist.

No. That was not really the goal in those quick and awkward glances in the locker rooms. That was a sudden opportunity. But this…

What the fuck.

I heard a falter in his breathing before he tried to glue his front to my back somewhat comfortably considering the low temperature at the moment, I didn't mind.

That why I was in such a state.

I don't care.

I don't care about all the shit he did last night well, I do but you know what I mean. I mean that he going to do it again but I don't care but I know it's wrong but it feels right, right? It feels right-I mean I guess, I mean, I don't- what the fuck? Why am I contradicting myself?

I'm so weird.

I just need some time to think about it. About Dylan and me and about-I can't believe I'm saying this but- Wendy Testabuger.

Fuck that.

I just need some time.

XxOoXx

**AN: Sorry… no I'm not. Okay, like I do have a life. And it is summer…yeah. So my excuse isn't solid but I can't bring myself to care so now all of you know that I am basically updating this when I do have time. Along with my other fic. Sorry but that's life. Okay, I will be updating now but I also forgot my password. I'm sure I'll remember it. You'll know if I end up posting this. Don't worry this will be continued.**


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